


A Tale in Photographs

by ThatMasterOnline



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 16:50:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatMasterOnline/pseuds/ThatMasterOnline
Summary: Ajay and Pagan swap phone numbers, and send pictures back and forth to eachother.





	A Tale in Photographs

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline is a little off in this fic. I somehow had it in my  
> head that Ajay blows up the statue somewhere in the middle of the game?
> 
> Also potential epilogue, but I'm not sure. If you'd like one, let me know, and I'd appreciate ideas about what they'd talk about in the epilogue. I'm a little stuck as-is.

“Oh, would you hold this? Just a second, I want to get a little...picture...That’s it, right into the camera...AWESOME. Don’t you worry about a thing, my boy, soon this will all be behind us and we’ll be off on our grand adventure, because I have cleared my calendar for you! You and I are gonna TEAR SHIT UP!!!” 

It was in the helicopter, with the bag still on his head, that Ajay was sent his first picture.

“Oh, would you give me your number, Ajay? I’ll send this to you. I know you must want a copy as well.” He didn’t particularly, but it was a picture he would end up treasuring anyways. 

The first time Ajay sent a picture, he was having a little downtime. Something about the look on Pagan’s face during dinner (“your mother never spoke of me...never mentioned me…” He’d sounded so sad…) made Ajay think he wanted to know about him, check up on him, be a part of his life. So even though he was fighting with the rebels against Pagan, he took a picture of the view, and sent it to him.  
Ajay: [The scenery is lovely here.]

When Pagan’s phone dinged, he was overjoyed to see the picture from Ajay.

Pagan: [Isn’t it! Some day we’ll have to get a picture atop the balcony here at the palace. Spectacular!]

After that, they sent pictures to eachother regularly. Most of it was lighthearted, and they enjoyed the light banter they had.

Pagan: [Just enjoying my vintage whiskey. Pity all you have is whatever swill the Golden Path has.] Accompanied by a picture of Pagan in a lounge chair sipping whiskey.

Ajay: [You mean this luxurious French wine? I’d hardly call it swill…] Accompanied by a similar picture of Ajay with a glass of wine and a smile on his face.

Sometimes it was harmless banter, and sometimes Ajay pressed a little harder than he should. His personal favourite was the time he sent Pagan a picture of his own gold statue.

Ajay: [That’s a nice gold statue you’ve got there.] Pagan frowned when he saw the message, having a vague idea where this was going.

Pagan: [Ajay…]

Ajay: [Be a shame if something…] Pagan was starting to worry.

Pagan: [Ajay, don’t you DARE.] 

Pagan’s phone dinged again, and it was a picture of Ajay, standing in front of his gold statue with a sly smirk on his face and a rocket launcher slung over his shoulder.

Ajay: [HAPPENED TO IT.]

Before Pagan could type out the message, he heard the boom and cheers. He sighed, taking to the radio to - not yell, he could never yell at Ajay - vent.

“Do you have something against my likeness, Ajay? Tearing down all of my posters, killing Eric, and now this? Is there something I’m missing? Should I be taking this personally?”

***

“Why are you taking pictures of the gyrocopter, brother?” Ajay could hardly tell Sabal he was planning on sending it to Pagan, or that he’d been sending pictures that essentially gave away the Golden Path’s location to Pagan for ages. Scrambling for an answer, he came up with the only thing he could think of.

“I...want to remember my trip to Kyrat, as odd as that sounds. I have heritage here, and I want to remember as much of it as I can. Even though most of my time has been spent killing, I...want to remember all of it. Because this is my heritage, as well.” Sabal clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him into a hug.

“Soon, brother, your heritage will be more than guns and killing. Soon, you will be able to take pictures with pride.” 

Amita spotted Ajay taking pictures as well, and Sabal said to Amita what Ajay had said to him. She thought it was adorable, that he was such a sentimental type. Neither of them asked questions after that, though they both talked about it in hushed voices when they saw him at it. Pagan and Ajay both laughed at the thought. Imagine if they knew he was fraternizing with the enemy!

And then the time came for Ajay to decide. Amita or Sabal? Which one had he gotten closest to? Whose ideologies did he most closely identify with? Pagan wasn’t terribly surprised when he didn’t hear from Ajay for a while. As he’d so eloquently put it in their radio conversation, ‘I know, choices are hard.’ He knew Ajay had made his choice when his phone dinged with a picture of the view - was that where Amita stayed?

Ajay: [The scenery is lovely here.]

Pagan could hear the mourning in his tone from in the palace. He smiled sadly and replied.

Pagan: [It most certainly is. The view from Mohan’s home isn’t half bad, either.] 

It was as close as he could get to comforting Ajay, telling him to rest. He was glad when Ajay did send him a picture of the trees around his house.

Ajay: [...They’ll want me to come for you next.]

Pagan: [We can finally get that picture from the balcony.] Despite everything, Ajay smiled.

Ajay: [I look forward to it.]

When he finally forced his way into the palace, Pagan was there, pouring a glass of whiskey for the both of them.

“Shall we take that picture now? The balcony is just out there. I won’t have blood on my face this time, thank god.” They went outside, and Ajay took a picture of the view before they took their picture together.

“Smile, Ajay. We’re together again.” Pagan took the picture and sent it to Ajay. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring fondly at it until Pagan’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“I suppose we ought to talk business now.”

He didn’t want to kill Pagan. Despite knowing the man was a tyrant, he wasn’t nearly as bad as the Golden Path had made him sound. They talked, he even got to put his mother’s ashes to rest, finally, and when he left he saw Pagan in the air.

“All choices have consequences, Ajay! I’ve given you Kyrat, but I’m keeping the helicopter!!” Ajay didn’t shoot him down, but he wasn’t planning on telling Sabal that. Pagan wouldn’t trouble Kyrat anymore. When he got back, all hell was breaking loose.

“When you sided with Amita, you chose to turn against your religion, your country, your own people. Now you kneel before the Tarun Matara asking forgiveness? Hm? No. NO. Where was that forgiveness when you butchered your brothers and sisters? So I say to you today, you chose to slit your own throats, not me.”

“Sabal!” He confronted him, and Sabal told him the bloodshed was needed to purify Kyrat. Ajay didn’t miss that Sabal didn’t call him ‘brother’.

“The Tarun Matara will understand. Will you?”

“No...no I won’t,” Ajay said, “Stop this, Sabal, stop it! I’ve been fighting this whole time to stop the bloodshed! Pagan is gone, Amita is gone, we’re all united! We need to focus on rebuilding, not punishing people for crimes of the past! The country was in turmoil! People chose what they thought would keep them alive, they can’t be faulted for that! Please, brother…You said that Kyrat would become a country I could take pictures of with pride. Can I proudly take pictures of this?” A last ditch attempt to pacify Sabal, get him to see reason. He almost knew it wouldn’t work.

“This is necessary. If we do not purge these criminals now, we will have another Pagan in a few months. You can stand aside, close your eyes if it bothers you, I do not care. But you will not stop me.” Ajay’s lip trembled, as it had only one other time. It was the only show of weakness before he pulled out his handgun and pointed it directly at Sabal.

“No. This has to end, or Kyrat will never have peace. Tell those men to lower their knives, or I’ll kill you and order them myself. I’ve already killed one friend, I can kill another.” Sabal glared at him, long and hard. 

“I trusted you, brother. It seems you are too soft to rule Kyrat.” Ajay saw Sabal look over his shoulder, and that was the only indication that someone was behind him before he was struck on the back of the head and dropped to the ground, dazed. He struggled as two men grabbed his arms and held him down, but it was useless, he was too weak. 

“No, stop! Please, Sabal, stop the bloodshed!” He couldn’t do anything, and he was forced to watch as the soldiers resumed their actions, slitting the mens’ throats. When the show was over, Ajay was dragged to an underground prison he hadn’t known about, tossed in a cell and left to rot. He carefully assessed the tender spot on his head, then sighed and pulled out his phone, looking at the photo of him and Pagan on the balcony. It looked like he wasn’t going to rule Kyrat after all. He growled, throwing his phone across the room, half laughing at the irony - he’d been in charge of the country ten minutes, and he’d already butchered things - and half frustrated. He should have done better than this. He shouldn’t have hesitated, he should have shot Sabal when he didn’t immediately back down, if he’d even given him the option at all. Ajay sighed, picking his phone back up.

Ajay: [You’ve been gone what, an hour, tops?] Might as well text Pagan to pass the time. In truth, he wasn’t sure Pagan would even bother responding now that he was gone, and Ajay was immensely relieved when his phone dinged.

Pagan: [In trouble already, dear boy?]

In response, Ajay sent a picture of himself sitting miserably in his cell, with the bars in the background and the clothed back of a man standing guard.

Ajay: [...Please help, I can’t do this alone…] Pagan was laughing so hard his pilot had a hard time understanding the order to turn around.

Pagan: [I’ve been gone forty minutes, dear boy! How on earth did you manage to land yourself in jail in that time?]

Ajay: [I...may have pointed a gun at Sabal. He was slitting peoples’ throats, just because they sided with Amita! It’s wrong! I was fighting for an end to the bloodshed, not more!]

Pagan: [No need to argue ideologies with me, dear boy, I don’t care how you run your country. Or...perhaps it should be my country again, until you’re ready.] 

Ajay: [Please. PLEASE.]

Ajay: [Wait...does that mean you’re coming back?]

Pagan: [All in good time, dear boy. All in good time.]

‘All in good time’ ended up being about a day. It was nighttime...probably, Ajay really didn’t have much of a clue in the dungeon, but the walls were considerably darker than they usually were. He heard explosions, and gunfire, and screaming. It was getting closer. Suddenly an explosion went off right next to him and he covered his head with his arms, feeling the debris splatter into his face. When he’d coughed the dust from his lungs and blinked his vision clear, Pagan was standing there, frowning at him.

“You’re lucky this is my worst suit, Ajay. I’d planned on getting dirty, but this is ridiculous.” Ajay’s eyes widened.

“Pagan!” Pagan smiled.

“Yes, yes, I’m here to rescue you and all that heroic shit. Now come on, I have a surprise for you. A pop quiz, as it were.”

“Pop quiz…?” Ajay stepped through the door, which was barely hanging on its hinges, and followed Pagan outside, steeling himself for what he would see. 

Bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. Blood was everywhere, none of the bodies on the ground were moving. Nobody had been left alive. The only people standing were the royal guards, guns at ease now that there was nobody alive to resist them. He followed Pagan over the field of bodies, and then in the distance he saw three soldiers still fighting, holding down a struggling hostage. When Ajay got closer, he saw it was-

“Brother! Brother, please!” The term of endearment sounded bitter to his ears now, as he knew Sabal had disowned him as his brother from the moment he’d first stood up to him. They were only brothers because he wanted Ajay to save his ass. Pagan handed him a shotgun.

“Pop quiz, Ajay!” Pagan said brightly. Ajay took aim at Sabal.

“Ajay...Ajay, please! I am sorry, Ajay, I had only intended to keep you incarcerated until Kyrat was a country you could be proud of!”

“Until you’d finished killing everyone you didn’t like, you mean,” Ajay replied, his mouth set in a tight line. He cocked the gun.

“You...really intend to shoot me? You’d shoot your brother in the head?”

“When you chose to side against your people, you chose to side against your country, against me. You chose to shoot yourself in the head.” Ajay took a breath, closed his eyes.

“With your death, nobody else will have to die in Kyrat. We will finally have peace.” He pulled the trigger. Sabal’s body slumped to the ground, and Ajay dropped the gun and walked away. Pagan sighed. Ajay walked as far away as he could, and five minutes later his phone dinged. It was a picture of the palace in the distance.

Pagan: [Shall we go home?] Ajay sighed. 

Ajay: [...Give me a minute.] A minute turned out to be shorter than he thought it would be, drawn back by the thought of a soft bed. Pagan put an arm around Ajay’s shoulders and led him to the chopper.

“We’ll talk about how to rule a country after you’ve had a holiday for a few days? I think you deserve a vacation.”

“Definitely. I’m done with this.”

“Then it’s decided! For the next week, we’ll do whatever you want to do! Stay in the palace? That was always the best place for me, of course. Explore Kyrat? I could get to know my country a little better. Travel internationally? Name the place!”

“Shower and bed first. And second. And then...I just want to stay in the palace. Get drunk, sleep all day, do whatever I want.”

“Man after my own heart. Be sure to visit once in awhile? During mealtimes?” Ajay smiled.

“Yeah, whatever.”

***

True to his word, Ajay took a shower and then slept for a long time. At least, he shut himself away in his room for a long time. A lot of it was sleeping, some of it was getting drunk, and all of it was mourning how fucked up things had gotten in Kyrat. Pagan had insisted Ajay come out of his room so they could get drunk together (he hadn’t missed the servants slipping into his stores), and Ajay went all out to a degree that surprised Pagan.

“Damn them!” He’d slurred drunkenly when even Pagan had decided he’d had enough (virgin drunks, don’t know when to stop, Pagan thought with a sigh), “Damn them both! Sabal never listened to a word I fucking said, and Amita changed every single fucking thing except what Kyrat needed! They wouldn’t fucking listen! God dammit, why does nobody ever fucking listen to me?!” The tears finally came, and Ajay slumped over on the ground, sobbing and weakly pounding the ground with a fist.

“If they would just fucking listen...if they'd have just fucking listened to me, I wouldn’t’ve had to shoot them...I just want somebody to fucking listen to me...But no, of course not, just ignore the fucking outsider, he doesn’t know jack shit about anything!” Another drunken sob.

“That’s why...why I didn’t shoot you, after everything. Why I never really tried to kill you. Even with...Eric, I knew it was a fake. I had to pretend, but I didn’t...want to kill...you…” Ajay’s vision was starting to swim.

“You...you listened to me...you...looked at me...you...you...you saved me...when...when nobody else did...when nobody else listened...you did...you...listened...You...you...you’re my...you’re just...I’ll never...I...I...I love you, Pagan...you...you’re my...I always...felt...you were...not Mohan...you were...more than...Mohan...ever was...I...I love you...I love you so...so much...I...I love…” Ajay groaned and then sighed, the alcohol finally forcing him to sleep. Pagan huffed and began cleaning up the mess.

“My god, Ajay, I’m never letting you touch another drop of alcohol. I’ve never been that drunk, and that’s damn well saying something.” Still, he was touched. Some of Ajay’s drunken rambling, especially the part about loving him and him being better than Mohan, had really touched him. He could be less of a smug ass to Ajay, at least until his life settled and he got over the grief of having to shoot both his friends.


End file.
